Love Finds You in Sisters, Oregon

by Melody Carlson

  “Hope?” The woman smiled, revealing a slight gap between her two front teeth.

  “Erica!” Hope reached out and grabbed her old friend’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming to your grandmother’s funeral, of course.”

  “But all the way from LA?”

  “Oh, I don’t live there anymore. Didn’t you get my last Christmas card?” Then she laughed. “Come to think of it, I didn’t send that last one. I meant to.”

  “You live here in Sisters?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Let’s sit together,” Hope suggested, pointing to a spot not too far from the front.

  “But don’t you want to sit with your family?”

  Hope just shrugged. “It appears to be full up there.”

  So Erica slid into the last space of the fourth pew and Hope followed, sitting right next to the center aisle. She pushed aside a sense of indignation and turned her attention back to Erica. “What made you move back here?” she asked quietly. The organ music was beginning to play now, and it was probably just minutes until the service would begin.

  “I was tired of the fast pace down there.”

  “But I thought you were working for a TV network or something.”

  Erica nodded. “I was writing. But I realized I could write anywhere. Plus it seemed like everyone who lived down there kept writing the same thing. I got to thinking if I lived somewhere else I might write about something more unique.”

  “And is it working?”

  Erica grinned. “Oh, yeah. In fact, I just sold my first script.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “We’ll see. There’s still a long way to go before production begins.” Erica looked directly ahead now, up to where the slate blue casket was situated with wreaths and bouquets of flowers all around. “Sorry about your grandmother, Hope,” she said quietly. “But she had a good, long life.”

  Hope nodded. “She did.”

  “She set a good example on how to grow old gracefully,” Erica continued. “I saw her just last week at the post office. As usual, she had walked. But she seemed tired.”

  Hope nodded again. “I just wish I’d come out here to visit her…you know, one more time before she passed.”

  Just then the organ music seemed to intensify, the people who had been quietly chatting amongst themselves grew quieter, and old Pastor Murray slowly made his way to the pulpit. Hope was surprised to see he was still around since he’d seemed old to her even twenty years ago. Then, the service began with prayer and there was scripture reading and a short eulogy, which Hope suspected Nona had written herself. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for an old-fashioned funeral service, but it was sincere and respectful and Nona probably would’ve appreciated it.

  “And now for Madolina Bartolli’s favorite hymn.” Pastor Murray nodded over to where his wife was preparing to sing. “‘In The Garden.’ Turn to your programs if you would like to sing along.”

  IN THE GARDEN

  Verse 1

  I come to the garden alone,

  While the dew is still on the roses;

  And the voice I hear,

  Falling on my ear,

  The Son of God discloses.

  Chorus:

  And he walks with me

  And He talks with me,

  And He tells me I am his own;

  And the joy we share as we tarry there,

  None other has ever known.

  Verse 2

  He speaks and the sound of His voice

  Is so sweet the birds hush their singing;

  And the melody that He gave to me

  Within my heart is ringing.

  Chorus

  Verse 3

  I’d stay in the garden with Him,

  Tho’ the night around me be falling,

  But He bids me go;

  Thro’ the voice of woe

  His voice to me is calling.

  Chorus

  Hope opened her program to sing, but seeing the sweet words made her eyes fill with tears so that she was unable to read the words. She simply looked up to the front of the church until they reached the chorus, which she knew by heart.

  As they sang the chorus, she couldn’t help but notice that her sisters were actually laughing. Laughing! What on earth was the matter with them? And didn’t they care what their grandmother would think—who laughs at a funeral? She was thankful that she wasn’t sitting up there with them. And she was embarrassed for Nona’s sake. She exchanged glances with Erica, who seemed equally bewildered by Cherry and Faye’s disrespectful behavior. What was wrong with those two?

  The service ended, and as the pall bearers carried the blue casket down the aisle, Hope tried to push the aggravation over her sisters’ strange behavior away from her. Best to just act cordial, pay her family dues (not that anyone seemed to care), and get out of town as soon as possible. Maybe she could even change her flight to this evening instead of Saturday.

  “Are you going to be in Sisters for long?” Erica asked as they were exiting the pew. “Maybe we could get coffee or—”

  “Coffee and cookies will be served in the church basement after the interment,” an old church-lady friend informed them. Hope couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but she made a forced smile for her benefit. “Yes, thank you. That will be nice.”

  “Are you going to the cemetery?” Hope asked Erica.

  “Sure.” Erica smiled. “Want a ride?”

  “Thanks, I’d love one.”

  As Erica drove in the procession to the cemetery, she updated Hope on the comings and goings of her life, including a divorce that had occurred a couple of years ago. All that Hope recalled of this marriage was getting Christmas cards with photos of the “happy” couple in exotic places like Tahiti or Fiji.

  “That was just one more reason it was easy to leave LA behind,” Erica said as she parked along the road by the cemetery. “It was one thing being lonely inside of a bad marriage. But going through that whole single thing down there…well, I just didn’t have the energy.”

  “And you think it’ll be easier in Sisters?” Hope felt doubtful.

  “I’ve already accumulated a nice circle of friends. That helps.”

  “You guys weren’t married very long,” Hope mused as they walked with the processional toward the gravesite area.

  “Almost seven years. My mom said that Will got the seven-year itch. I think he’d had it even before we were married.”

  They joined the others already gathered by the gravesite. This time Hope had no expectations about standing with her family. She figured they wouldn’t care one way or another. The burial service was dignified but brief. Nona’s casket was laid to rest between her two previous husbands, Charles and Antonio. How the deceased men would’ve felt about this arrangement would remain a mystery. But as the shiny casket was lowered, Hope suspected that it had been Nona’s plan all along. A final prayer was said and some of Nona’s surviving children dropped handfuls of dirt into the grave…and then some of the grandchildren, including Cherry and her two children. Hope wanted to push her way through the small crowd and take her place, but convention prevented her. She decided she would return later, for a private moment with her grandmother.

  Back at the church, Erica pulled up to the entrance, pausing to dig something out of her purse. “Give me a call, okay?” She handed a slightly rumpled business card to Hope.

  “You mean you’re not staying for coffee and cookies in the basement?” Hope gave Erica a cheesy smile. The truth was, Hope did not want to go down into the stuffy church basement and chat with old people.

  “I’ll pass. But, really, if you get the chance, call me. You heard my story already, but we never even got to yours.”

  Hope nodded as she tucked the card into her Gucci bag. “Thanks for the ride.” As she got out of the car, she prepared herself to be polite and social and ladylike. As badly as she wanted to escape with
Erica, she would do this one last small thing for Nona’s sake. And then she would be free. Or so she would tell herself. Cut the ties that bind and fly home, and nothing would pull her back to this town again.

  Chapter Five

  Hope politely smiled and mingled, pretending to enjoy what was actually some very acidic coffee in a Styrofoam cup. But, as they congregated in the church basement, she did enjoy meeting Nona’s old friends, hearing stories of their favorite memories of Nona. Some of them actually remembered Hope from her childhood, but most of them knew Cherry much better. As always, Cherry Bartolli Lawson seemed to be everyone’s favorite. Not that they said as much to Hope, but she could see it in their eyes when they spoke of her little sister. Apparently, Cherry was running for Miss Congeniality of Sisters because she volunteered for everything and anything and was often featured in the weekly newspaper. “And she’s so photogenic,” one woman said. Yes, it seemed that Cherry was still a small-town celebrity. Well, good for her.

  “Oh, you were here after all,” Faye said to Hope when their paths finally crossed as the crowd in the basement started to thin. “Cherry thought you hadn’t made it.”

  Hope suppressed the urge to say something really mean. “Did Cherry think I’d take time off work, fly in from Portland, and then miss Nona’s funeral?”

  “She thought maybe you were sick. You know, after you left early last night.”

  “Oh.” Hope made an apologetic smile. “I think I was just tired.”

  “Well, it’s almost over with.” Faye sighed. “Nona would’ve liked it.”

  Hope wasn’t so sure Nona would’ve liked everything about today. “So what were you and Cherry giggling about?” she asked suddenly. “I could hear you clear back where I was sitting.”

  “Giggling?” Faye looked confused.

  “During Nona’s favorite hymn. You were both cracking up like twelve-year-olds and I was embarrassed for the family’s sake.”

  Faye smiled as if this was very funny. “Oh, that.”

  “What?” demanded Hope.

  Faye giggled now. “Nona’s favorite hymn.”

  “Yes…?” Hope was getting seriously aggravated.

  “And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own.” Now Faye was laughing as if this was the funniest thing in the world.

  “What is wrong with you?” Hope glanced around to see if anyone was listening to her crazed sister. But mostly it was just family members remaining and they didn’t seem to notice.

  “Andy. Don’t you get it? Andy walks with me. Andy talks with me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sometimes she sang that song just to be funny. Because Andy walked with Nona. Andy talked—”

  “Oh, Andy.” A dim light went on as Hope remembered something that Nona had written in her letters, about how she and Andy walked to town together when the weather was nice. “Nona’s walking friend. Yes, I remember. But why is that so funny? And, by the way, was Andy here?” Hope glanced around the basement, where it seemed only a few lingering relatives remained. “I would’ve liked to have met him.”

  Faye started to laugh harder.

  “What is so funny?” Hope frowned at her.

  “Andy!” she sputtered.

  Hope just stared. “Yes, but why is that funny? Who is Andy?” Suddenly she imagined some secret lover—perhaps a younger man—even so, what was so terribly humorous about that?

  Faye just laughed louder. “Who is he?”

  Hope held up her hands. What kind of game was this? “Okay, where is he?”

  “He’s at the vet.” Faye chortled as she pulled a tissue from her pocket.

  “The vet?”

  “He’s—he’s being boarded there.” Faye was laughing so hard she had tears running down her flushed face.

  “Boarded?” Hope wasn’t sure which one of them was crazy. But now Cherry was coming their way with a curious expression.

  “Hope thinks—” Faye grabbed Cherry’s arm and continued sputtering. “She—she thinks Andy is a—a person!”

  Now Cherry was starting to giggle. “Really?”

  “Andy is a dog!” Faye finally managed to blurt out. But now, both she and Cherry were laughing as if this were the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  “Andy is a dog?” Hope nodded, letting this sink in. So Andy wasn’t a neighbor, or even a secret lover, but a dog. “Still, it’s not that funny.”

  But it was too late. Both Cherry and Faye were acting like crazy women. Like two drunken sailors, they were now singing the chorus to “In the Garden.”

  “Andy walks with me. Andy talks with me. Andy tells me I am his own!” And they were howling with laughter.

  Hope made her way from them, slipping back up the stairs and into the now quiet church. If her sisters wanted to make fools of themselves, let them. She was not going there. She exited the church, got into the Rambler Classic, and then went to town where she’d seen a florist shop. There, she bought a dozen pink roses (Nona’s favorite). Then she got back in the car and drove to the cemetery where all was quiet and the gravesite had already been refilled and the flowers were neatly laid out.

  She just stood there looking down at the small sea of flowers then finally took in a long, deep breath. “Oh, Nona,” she said aloud. “I’m sorry I missed seeing you before you left. I would’ve liked to have talked.” She laid her bouquet of pink roses near the marble headstone then stepped back. “You were my family, Nona. Maybe you were my only family.” Tears were sliding down her cheeks now. She just let them. “I hope I can remember all the things you taught me…all the things you said to me while I was growing up. I’m sure that I’ll need them.” Then, Hope remembered the words she’d heard last night, just as she’d been falling asleep, words about letting go, about letting God hold onto things. At the time they’d seemed to make sense. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “Was that you, Nona?” she whispered nervously. “Were you trying to tell me something?” Just then a breeze rippled through the air, stirring the leaves of the nearby aspen trees. It was a pretty sound, light…airy…free. And something about that sound filled Hope with longing. She bent over and removed one rose from the ones she had just laid down. She held this to her chest as she silently prayed, asking God to guide her…to help her to find her way…and possibly to teach her how to learn to let go. Although she wasn’t even sure what it was she needed to let go of.

  “Thank you, Nona,” she said quietly. “Be at peace. Be at rest. I will always hold you in my heart.” Then, she turned and walked away. But as she walked, she sensed that someone was watching her. And as she got closer to her car, she noticed another car—a midsized SUV parked nearby. Probably someone paying respects to someone else, she told herself as she fished the Rambler car keys from her bag. Besides, this was Sisters. No reason to be worried about getting mugged here.

  “Sorry to disturb your privacy,” called a male voice as a tall figure emerged from the shadows of a stand of Ponderosa pines.

  Hope actually jumped, dropping the car keys down on the graveled road.

  “And now I’ve frightened you.” He walked toward her and she realized it was the guy from Cherry’s front porch last night. Nona’s attorney. Or so he had said. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

  Street smart from living in the city for more than a decade, she cautiously stepped back from him now, moving toward the car, and yet fully aware that the keys were still on the ground.

  He smiled uncomfortably. “I know…it probably looks like I’m stalking you, Hope. But I’m not. It’s just that I saw Mrs. Bartolli’s car driving through town and it caught me off guard. And with your hair pinned up like that, well, I didn’t recognize you. And for one ridiculous moment, I thought it was Mrs. Bartolli’s ghost.” He laughed. “And so I followed the car out here.” He bent down to pick up her keys, holding them out to her with an outstretched arm as if he was trying to keep his distance. “Remember me?” he said as if he thought she’d gone senile since yes
terday. “Lewis Garson.”

  That’s when it hit her. “Lewie Garson,” she said slowly.

  He chuckled. “Lewie with no Huey or Dewey. I don’t even have an Uncle Donald. Although I did go to the U of O, which does make me a duck. Anyway, I gave up the nickname in college.”

  She smiled in relief. “We went to grade school together.”

  “And junior high and high school, too. It’s just that I kind of blended in with the woodwork during those years.”

  “Now I remember.” She stepped closer and took her keys from him. “You were always shy.”

  He nodded. “Fortunately, I lost the shyness along with the nickname. Or mostly. I still get an attack of shyness now and then.”

  “I thought you seemed familiar yesterday, but I just couldn’t place you.”

  “Well, I did change somewhat. My mom said I finally grew into my feet.” He pointed down to his shiny brown loafers. “Can you believe they were size thirteen when I was only thirteen, but I was still shorter than most of the girls.” He made a face. “Including you.”

  “I sprouted up fast.” She made a face back at him. “And I was taller than most of the boys.”

  “Not anymore.” He stepped closer to her to show that he had a good six inches on her now. And that was with her heels. “Anyway, I’m sorry to have startled you. I don’t usually stalk beautiful women in the graveyard like this.”

  She was speechless now. Had he just called her beautiful?

  “As long as I have you here, I might as well remind you that the family will be getting together at Cherry’s for the reading of the will.”

  She sighed. “I doubt that anyone will miss me.”

  “But you need to be there.”

  “I’m sure Cherry will see that I get whatever little trinkets Nona may have left to me.” Of course, even as she said this, Hope could think of several little mementos she wouldn’t mind having. Not that she’d get the chance if Cherry got to them first. Besides, Hope reminded herself, she’d already experienced the most important parts of Nona. She’d gotten those during her childhood.